


Camisado

by Hale13



Series: Whump Bingo 2020 [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fainting, Human Disaster Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Whump, Whump Bingo, Whumptober, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hale13/pseuds/Hale13
Summary: Finals week is difficult for any normal over-achieving high schooler.Peter is an enhanced, vigilante over-achieving high schooler with a lightning fast metabolism.(For space B1 on my Bingo card - Apologizing before they pass out)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whump Bingo 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943986
Comments: 8
Kudos: 184





	Camisado

**Author's Note:**

> I’m attempting doing a whump bingo for Whumptober for the first time ever. I’m attempting to write 1 story a day in a single sitting so let me know if you see anything glaringly obviously wrong.
> 
> Enjoy!

On a list of Peter’s top five things to do, hanging in Mr. Stark’s private workshop and working on an amalgamation of random shit was probably at the very top.

Currently, he was elbow deep in the Mark XLVI, or the Prodigal Son as Mr. Stark fondly called him, rewiring some faulty systems for the repulses in the hands with Mr. Stark looking over his shoulder on occasion to offer suggestions, praise or constructive criticism. Honestly, it was the most fun he had all week.

On top of it being finals week at midtown, the bitingly cold weather had eased up enough for crime to have a serious uptick but not enough for Peter to be comfortable swinging around even with the heater in his suit. God, his lack of thermoregulation sucked. Something scraped against his finger and Peter hissed, manfully resisting the urge to pull it from the delicate interior of the suit to suck the blood off the tip. This is what he got for losing focus - motor oil tasted awful.

“You good over there kiddo?” Mr. Stark asked, not looking up from the joint he was welding, dark goggles obscuring half his face.

“Yep,” Peter answered back shortly, diving back into the guts of the machine with a little less vigor. In all honesty, he had been burning the candle at both ends for the past couple of weeks. He was taking all AP classes this semester and was quite unwilling to give up his Spider-Man activities in favor of studying. But he also wasn’t just going to _not_ study for his AP exams (and the exams his teachers had written that he had to sit through too because going to a private STEM school that fed straight into Ivy League colleges was not meant to be easy) so he had drastically cut into his sleep schedule for the past few weeks.

And maybe he had skipped a few meals and supplemented with Cliff Bars and protein shakes and other things that could be eaten in less than 3 minutes one handed. Finals were over now so he could get back into his regular routine.

Right after this lab session.

“Thoughts?” Mr. Stark’s voice jolted him out of his stupor and he realized his hands were shaking minutely from where he had them still tangled in wires. He blinked and looked up at his mentor who had moved on from welding and was soldering the finer areas of the joint he was working on. He must have drifted off for a few minutes.

“Huh?” He responded eloquently, shaking his head to clear his vision but causing it to grey at the edges instead. He gently detangled his hands from the wires of the suit and gripped the table in front of him instead.

His mentor glanced over at him, expression still hidden, and turned off his soldering iron, dampening it on the sponge that was attached to the set up and holstering it before removing his gloves and pushing the goggles up his forehead, ruffling his hair. Mr. Stark squinted his eyes at him and rested against the back of his stool, a considering look on his face.

“Looking a little pale there Spiderling,” he stated, now gently twisting the stool back and forth. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter considered the question for a moment and determined that he wasn’t really sure how he felt. Rationally, he knew that he should be hungry since he had only eaten a few hundred calories that day, he knew he should be tired since he had pulled an all-nighter and had only slept a few hours the night before. But, honestly, he felt a little disconnected from his body. Not light-headed or dizzy but like he was looking at himself from the outside. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself.

“My last final was today and I think it’s catching up with me,” he answered. Technically the truth and hopefully Mr. Stark would let him keep working. Peter was pretty sure that if he could just rest his eyes for a second he would be good to go.

Mr. Stark studied his face for a minute longer. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Wednesday night,” Peter answered promptly. He and Mr. Stark had a bit of an agreement on all-nighters; Mr. Stark wouldn’t tell Aunt May provided said all-nighter was for an academic reason and not a vigilante one and provided that Peter wouldn’t suit up for any reason until he had gotten a solid eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. Peter hadn’t broken the agreement here.

“Okay,” Mr. Stark said suspiciously, leaning his elbows forward on his knees and steepling his fingers like an old-time-y villain. “And how many hours did you get on Wednesday night?”

“Well I didn’t exactly count Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t be cute Pete..”

“I’m adorable”

“Peter.”

“Ugh,” Peter responded, quickly redoing the math he had already done a few times in the hope the number had increased by a few hours. “Like three? Four?”

“And When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?” Mr. Stark now looked concerned and Peter gulped, looking down at his hands and trying to count the days only to find he couldn’t really remember.

“Don’t be mad,” Peter mumbled, gripping the desk again to still his fingers that continued to tremble. At least Mr. Stark couldn’t see that.

“Out with it,” his mentor encouraged, crossing his arms over his chest and ducking his head to catch Peter’s eyes and keep eye contact with him, a knowing look coloring his features.

“I’m… not really sure?” Peter muttered, breaking eye contact and releasing the desk with one of his hands to pick at the loose thread in his jacket.

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut. “And am I correct to assume that, in addition to not sleeping correctly, you have furthered your utter lack of self-care to include not eating enough for your metabolism and overworking yourself because you don’t know how to prioritize?”

Peter wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. Mr. Stark was sure to take his non-answer as an answer in and of itself. In cases like this, it was generally better to let Mr. Stark draw his own conclusions. He tended to underestimate Peter’s propensity for stupidity and he didn’t really want to share with him how bad he had let it get. How far things had gone. Instead he just pasted a sheepish smile on his face and focused on not swaying too much on his stool. Mr. Stark scrutinized him for a few minutes and then let out a deep sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were this tired? You know I would have given you the night off right?” Mr. Stark asked beseechingly, expression pleading. And, yeah, Peter did know. For as much as Mr. Stark liked to act like feelings gave him heartburn he was a super empathic and touchy-feel-y guy. Poor relationships had clearly jaded him but Peter was working on it.

“I know,” Peter assured him, “but I really like working in the lab.” He considered for a moment. “I really like being around you Mr. Stark, I didn’t want to give that up just because I was tired.”

“You’re an idiot.” Mr. Stark told him bluntly. Peter just nodded in agreement; May had told him this quite a few times in the last couple months. “You’re always welcome Pete. I don’t just want you over for the free labor – if you’re tired we can always eat a bunch of garbage food and have a movie marathon. You even have a room here if you want to stay the night!”

Peter blinked at him. “So if I said that I would really like to go up to the penthouse and eat a couple pizzas and watch some really old movies…?”

“Then I would be on board with that,” Mr. Stark told him, cleaning the oil off of his hands with a worn out rag. “Although we need to have a discussion about what you consider to be ‘really old’ because I remember when a lot of those movies came out.”

“Yeah Mr. Stark, like I said, really old.”

“Cheeky brat.” His mentor grumbled, throwing Peter a clean, but equally worn out rag, to clean up with. Peter grinned at him and detached his hands from the desk and cleaned them as best as he could. There was some sand scrub in the penthouse kitchen that he knew would do a much better job at getting everything out of the crevices of his fingers and hands.

“Well come on kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, standing up and loudly cracking his back in a series of stretches. “And this better not happen again, capiche? I don’t want you working yourself to collapse.”

Peter opened his mouth to respond as he stood up and had to cut the words off as his vision swam intensely, making him feel nauseous. He struggled to center himself and gripped the table tightly as a sweat broke out on his forehead.   
Odd since he suddenly felt so cold. He could tell Mr. Stark was saying something to him but his dizzy brain couldn’t make sense of the words. He could barely comprehend his mentors sudden panicked expression when he turned around to look at Peter, rushing toward him.

As his vision tunneled and faded out to black, Peter mumbled a slurred “Sorry Mr. Stark,” and knew no more.

* * *

Waking back up was vaguely uncomfortable. The floor was cold under his back and his legs were a little bit numb and tingling. Huh, he didn’t remember falling asleep with them propped up. And why did he fall asleep on the floor anyway? His head was resting on something warm and he felt fingers working their way through his tangled curls. He kept his breathing deep and slow as he took stock as quickly as his confused brain would allow. He was in the lab with Mr. Stark. They were going to go upstairs and have dinner…

And he stood up too fast after not sleeping or eating well and clearly swooned like a damsel in distress. Great. Peter let out a tired groan and slowly blinked his eyes open, squinting at the dimmed workshop lights. Oh. It was Mr. Stark’s hand in his hair. He had passed out in front of Mr. Stark and was now lying with his head in the man’s lap. How embarrassing.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one evening don’t you Underoos?” Mr. Stark asked with a relaxed smile. He couldn’t fool Peter though, he could see that he had worried Mr. Stark based on how crinkled his crow’s feet were.

“Sorry,” he muttered, blinking slowly and keeping his eyes closed for a second longer than probably necessary. God, now that he was actually lying down he was _so tired_. He felt like he could sleep here for the next week.

“None of that now,” Mr. Stark told him while giving his hair a gentle tug. “You’re going to be going to sleep but it’ll be upstairs and not on the disgusting floor.” He paused to consider for a moment. “And you’re going to eat first. Any preferences?”

Peter, no longer feeling as hungry as he did before, shook his head and refused to open his eyes. Why should he move when he was already so comfortable?

“Didn’t you hear me? Focus up kiddo, we’re moving. Think you can sit up without taking another few years off my life?” Mr. Stark asked him. Not that he let Peter answer, he just started shifting his legs off the stool he had put them up on and lifted Peter’s head up, manhandling him into a sitting position against his will.

Peter blinked at him. “What if I wasn’t ready?” He asked blearily, leaning back against the wall to steady himself. The room was still rotating a little.

“Tough,” Mr. Stark told him brightly. “I’m going to help you up now and you’re going to lean on me until we get to the couch upstairs. I think your blood sugar probably tanked so you’re going to sit on the couch with some OJ while I get you some food. Then you’re going to eat and sleep in that order.”

“Yeah okay,” Peter couldn’t really argue. Sleep sounded pretty great right now and the sugar would probably help the headache that was starting to nag him.

It took them a little longer than normal to make it to the elevator and then to the couch in the penthouse but soon enough Peter was cuddled up with a couple of the worn out fleeces that were over the backs of the chairs in the room with some juice as Mr. Stark put in an order to a local deli via FRIDAY for soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Time passed a little oddly after that for Peter. He vaguely remembered Mr. Stark taking the empty glass from his hands and putting on Star Trek to play in the background. He faded in and out to Mr. Stark shaking him awake, first with a glass of water and then with a mug of soup that he refilled 3 times and a gooey grilled cheese that Peter choked down half of.

Mr. Stark seemed pleased enough with that so, when the mug started to slip through Peter’s fingers, his mentor took it from him and set it on the coffee table instead of filling it up again before placing a throw pillow on the cushion next to his thigh and nudging Peter until he was lying down on the couch with his head on the pillow.

Peter smiled as he felt fingers tangle themselves back into his curls. Maybe not his preferred way for it to happen, but he really couldn’t ask for a better start to his winter break.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t have a tumblr but join me over on Twitter @Hale1310 - I just set it up and I’m looking for some prompts to combine with these bingo prompts and for separate stories!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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